


You Smell Like Record Shops and Golden Vocals

by Caswillsaveme



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: also probably angsty af, i hate, this is my first published piece, this will probably be a shitstorm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6951652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caswillsaveme/pseuds/Caswillsaveme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick is just a kid that everyone sees, yet nobody notices. Joe was the first person to say more than a sentence to the kid, and he thought that he would be the last, till a short emo looking kid with fluffy hair and eyeliner looked in his direction for a little too long...</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>This probably isn't going to line up with the real lore well, and go all over the place but I'll try my best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

The sun was glaring down on the blacktop  
back in second grade  
his strawberry blonde hair twisted in the breeze  
he smiled up at the other boys  
but no one smiled back

No one saw that boy  
the one with pages full of words and thoughts  
and his mind clouded with unwritten melodies  
his hands filled with unspoken needs  
his eyes full of determined gleam

The sun was glaring on that boy  
the one with the hat pulled down  
below his eyes  
so no one would see him  
so no one would smile back

But someone saw in the sun  
a boy with strawberry blonde hair  
and pages full of thoughts  
and hands full of unspoken needs  
and they saw his eyes  
and they knew that they had seen that glare somewhere  
they knew that they had seen that distant look somewhere  
and they knew that they had forgotten to smile back


	2. Act 1: The Invisible Boy

There aren't many people in this world who could say that they have been a circus act without actually being apart of a circus. Then again, not many people spend their time between classes writing down the colors of the sky or the names of all the kids who pass by. Patrick was a sight to behold, almost in an ironic way. He was the invisible boy, it seemed as though not a single person had felt him bump into them or heard him mutter a quiet sorry. Not a single person looked up at him or moved out of the way. Everyone stared forward, straight ahead just like they had always been told to. Patrick turned the corner of the white halls, teenagers shuffling into class upon class. Tall awkward kids lining his path, and taking up space. He trecked forward toward the end of the hall, to his Music Theory classroom, where his teacher -a tough looking man- stood in the door way spectating over the kids. Patrick shoved his hands in the pockets of his heavy jacket and looked cautiously at the floor. That teacher always made him feel uncomfortable and called on him just so that he could have people look back to see "who that Patrick kid is." Trick pushed through the doorway and shuffled to the back of the class. He set his bag down on the floor next to his desk and sat down in his seat. The sky outside the window looked heavy, as if the clouds would fall into themselves and spill gallons of water at any moment. Patrick blinked his eyes and looked from the gloomy window, to the class.

A boy with short curly black hair, breathing heavily, pushed his way into the classroom. He looked as if he had just run all the way from the other side of the school and was carrying what looked like a big, maybe-guitar case? Patrick wracked his brain for what exactly the hard case could contain when he noticed the boy looking right at him. His blue eyes traced the outline of Patrick's face and ran all the way down from his hair to his shoes. Startled, Patrick snapped his neck forward looking back out the window and wishing that he hadn't stared at that kid for so long. After examining the way that the gray sky looked like a colorless sea, he looked back over to the kid who had traced his body with his eyes. The curly head teen was staring right back at Patrick with a goofy grin on his face. He nodded in Tricks direction and gestures towards the big case he had layed on the ground. Patrick blinked emptily at him and rubbed his eyes to be sure that the dude across the classroom had actually been "communicating" with him specifically and not someone around him. The black hair teen gestures toward the case again and Patrick nodded back in agreement with confusion. The bell for class to start rang through the class, the dark haired boy smiled goofily and nodded toward the teacher, as if to say "Pay attention, class is starting, asshole." Patrick looked toward his bulky teacher, who smiled wearily at the class. That bad feeling inflamed in Patrick's stomach and the teacher began to write on the board.


	3. Act 2: The Snake Charmer

The bulky teacher made quick motions with his hand, writing large words on the board. Soon the days lesson plans and other unimportant stuff were written in neat writing. The top of the board read out in big letters " WHO ARE YOU, WHO WILL YOU BE?" and Patrick thought to himself, what a stupid fucking question. He looked over to the boy with the short curly hair thinking, " I bet you know the answer". Patrick huffed out a burst of quick air from the side of his mouth, and wiped the back of his hand along his forehead, as if to wipe away the thought. The gray clouds circled by the classroom window again, and Patrick wondered if he'd hate himself any less if he could just float away like those clouds do. Like, if he was a leaf or a small slip of paper. He wondered, if he was physically as small and unimportant as he felt, would it make a difference? The slight breeze that was flowing through the grim outside seemed to be right there with Patrick, he shivered. While lost in thought he was quickly snapped back to class when his teacher loudly cleared his throat and pointed at the sentences he had just written out and stepped around his desk to walk through the classroom and discuss the days plans.

" Today I would like us to discuss something very important. As we all know, each of us is here to participate in the musical process. Music is a very important part of not only our lives, but the lives of everyone around us. I'd like our class to split into five small groups and discuss the impact of music on people, culture, and media. By the end of these discussions today, I would like everyone to have enough information for each of you to write me a three page essay on the same topic. Please spread out into even groups, and try to partner up with people you don't know. "

The class stirred with discussion and everyone moved to be with people they knew. Patrick just sat still and looked around at the class. Three groups were already fully developed, and he thought that he might die if he was the last person not apart of a group. The only people who were still looking for more people after a few minutes were a group of interesting looking kids, which included the curly haired kid that had motioned toward Patrick before class had started. He stood up and grabbed his bag from the floor, looking to where the black haired kid stood with the five other kids in his group. He dragged the bag behind him, and slowly walked up to where the last group stood and swallowed deeply, taking a big breathe in before speaking softly to his peers.

" Can I be a part of this group?" He mumbled toward anyone who could hear, and looked down to the floor, his face burning with embarassment. One of the girls in the group looked around to see what everyone else said, and nodded, pulling Patrick into the group. They all pushed over to the corner of the room and sat down, the black haired kid sat directly across from Patrick.

" So, we have to talk about music, and what it means to us. It's probably best to give lots of details, so us idiots can write that paper. Anyone want to start?" A soft speaking student spoke into the air. Everyone nodded and no one spoke. Eventually, after a few minutes, one of the girls of the group cleared her throat and said, " Yeah whatever, I guess I'll start." She began talking about why she does music, and how her mom used to be a singer. Patrick tuned out, uniterested, instead he looked up to where the black haired boy sat and tried to see what he was thinking. The boys face was looking at the girl speaking in mocking focus. He nodded sometimes, and reacted to whatever sob story happen to be being told at the time. Patrick wondered if, maybe he been mistaken in thinking that this kid wanted anything to do with him. He thought maybe someone had seen him for once, maybe someone had noticed his existance, but he guessed he had imagined it. Almost instantly after Patrick had that thought, the dark haired boy snapped over to look at him. He looked at Patrick with the same focused look, and had that same lop-sided grin from earlier, present on his face.

The girl ended her long speach with a couple words about the effect that music has on teenagers, and the media. Everyone in the group clapped out of general courtesy, and Patricks face burned brightly at the confrontation from the dark haired boy. Now that nobody in the group was speaking, everyone glanced around awkwardly at each other. Patrick could tell that all of the girls of the group were easily gravitating toward his aquaintance, and it made him feel kind of.... jealous? He looked away and shook his head to himself. That was a stupid thought, he didn't even know the kids name. The group members coughed and fidjited awkwardly, until one of the girls of the group- who Patrick assumed was a familiar friend of the curly haired boy- lightly pushed the boys arm repeating, " Do it, man. Do it." All of the other members stared at him in a pleading way. Patrick thought to himself, " All these kids just want to die. Me too." The dark haired kid smirked and sighed. 

" Fine", he said to the girl who had been pushing him to speak. She squealed in delight and leaned back in her chair, satisfied. The boy looked around the group, sizing everyone up, until finally landing his eyes on one kid. Patrick.

" Hi, my name is Joe", he started with that awkward grin," I do a lot of shit, but out of all the dumb stuff I do, I play guitar." Patrick was absolutely dumb founded at the first words that this kid- Joe, he had said his name was- spoke into the air. He didn't know why, but this kid, this guitar player, was one of the only people who had ever acknowledged his existance. That made his stomach do a flip while he sat there, in an old tee-shirt topped off with a light hoodie. He wondered if this- Joe- knew exactly what that meant to him. Patrick doubted it mattered at all. " I know what you're probably thinking, I bet this kid is a cigarette smoking, fuck off- and I mean you'd be kind of right. Or, you would have. I'm obviously pretty young, as all of us are, since we're in highschool and all, but I've done a lot of things so far in my life. A couple years ago, I was pretty fucked up. And, to be honest, that's a huge under statement. I never knew one person could mess up so many times in such a short period of time, until I was the one who had messed up. Other people are always the ones you want to see in the middle of a mess, but the truth was that I was the one who had fucked up, badly. There are a lot of things I could say to explain my way out of my mistakes, he put the drugs in my hands, they made me drink, she was the one who was an ass to those kids, but the truth is once you've done something, you've done it. No take backs, no rewinds. The things you do when you have nothing better to do, matter a LOT. And I didn't figure that out until I really started to focus in." As Joe spoke, Patrick hung on each and every word. He focused on his lips when he opened and closed them, rushing through his speach to reach his point. Patrick watched his hands move around, and his face morph with meaning at each word that left Joes mouth. Patrick watched Joe glance up at him every so often, as if he knew Patrick had been being attentive to each word and wanted to keep him hooked. Each glance of his icy blue eyes made Patricks heart speed up and his hands start to sweat. He wanted to dismiss the fact that he was nervous, but he knew it must've been very obvious.

Joe took another big breathe in and looked back to Patrick, everyone in the group stared at him." Music," he began, " is something else entirely. It's like having somebody there with you when you know that no one is actually there. When I listen to music, or play it, or just fuck around on my guitar, it's like it's a part of me. Music means life or death to me, I was dying. When I was doing all of those shitty things, I was killing myself. I knew that but, almost out of the blue, the words and notes of another persons voice and hands changed my life. I believe in the theories and other crap people say about listening to music, because it's honestly- as cheesy and cliche as that is- extremely relatable to my own personal experiences. I think that if I didn't have music in my life I wouldv'e either ruined my life with drugs and dumb stuff, or I'd probably be dead. The melodies that people create feel like blood and air to me, natural and essential. Music is something that we all need, not just as a whole, but individually too. Music is the most important thing in my entire life, and I can't do anything without it."

Joe finished talking with a soft smile and leaned back in his seat. He looked around, and everyone in the grouped clapped for him. Patrick was so focused on watching Joe, that he hadn't realized that he was finished speaking. He had an unusual thought, something silly that reminded him of stories he had heard as a kid. Stories of performers in shows and circuses that charmed snakes by playing music and speaking to them with velvety voices. He shook his head and chuckled, if anyone was a snake charmer, it'd be Joe. In the very little time that he had known him, Joe felt like a very old friend. He hadn't even spoken to him directly, yet he felt strangely connected to the kid, despite that. Patrick noticed that once again he was been stared at by those blue eyes. Joe leaned back into the group," Does anyone else have words to say before this class ends?" he said raising his eyebrows in my direction. A small whisper ran through the group, it was obvious nobody really wanted to speak. Patrick weighed his options in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE. This has been written for like a week but I didn't want to post it til it was edited so I've been holding onto it. Thanks for reading though, and thanks for waiting!
> 
> I'LL TRY TO UPDATE MORE BUT THIS FIC IS TURNING VERY JOE CENTRIC WHICH COULD EITHER BE GOOD OR BAD AND I HAVEN'T DECIDED WHICH YET.


End file.
